


It Gets Better

by Hazza902



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Coming Out, Drama & Romance, Gay, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazza902/pseuds/Hazza902
Summary: Carl stands alone in his fight against high school bullies.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Carl dropped his backpack on the floor and sat down. He stretched his arms and yawned like a lion in the Savanna heat. It was Wednesday, which meant two more days before the weekend started, and his first class was Art, which was not his favorite class to say the least. He was bad at drawing and was overall as creative as a goldfish.  
  
The only good thing about Art class on Wednesday morning was that the teacher, Mr. Harris, was just as reluctant to be there as him.  Mr. Harris would sip his coffee and stay behind his desk and let his students to whatever they wanted, and what Carl wanted was to be silent and do as little as possible, which also meant that his eyes started rolling spontaneously when Tom sat down opposite of him.  
  
Thomas waved enthusiastically. “Hi, Carl!”  
  
Carl looked at him with dazed eyes, held his gaze briefly, and yawned again. How was Thomas always so cheery in the morning? 8’o clock in the morning was too damn early for school. He stood up and walked to the cabinet where all their art works were stored.  
  
“Stop being so grumpy,” Thomas yelled after him. “If you’re going to be like that, it will only make you miserable.”

The urge to roll his eyes again was there, but Carl resisted. He opened the cabinet and took his own and Ron’s work. He chuckled at Ron’s painting. Ron’s painting skills were hilariously bad; however, somehow he always managed to get a good grade by pulling some bullshit story out of his ass about the meaning behind his art. Mr. Harris really ate that shit up. Ron could make a single red dot on a paper and get a good grade by saying it resembled his troubled past experiences with clowns.  
  
“You got mine too?” Thomas asked when Carl returned.  
  
Carl shook his head.  
  
"Why do you always get Ron’s but not mine?” Thomas said. He threw up his hands in defeat when Carl ignored him and got  up to get his own painting.

Carl shrugged. Tom was kind of a weird dude. He was one of those ‘alternative’ kids with strange clothes and crazy hair. They met earlier this year when Thomas sat next to Carl in Art and French class. They got along but weren’t quite friends—Carl didn’t feel like damaging his image at school, which wasn’t great to begin with. The only reason why he was semi-popular was because he hung out with Ron.

When Thomas returned, they spent the next fifteen minutes painting in silence after Carl’s continuous signals that he didn’t want to talk.

“So I’m making this totally awesome car,” Tom said.

Carl closed his eyes. The urge to roll his eyes wasn’t there; instead, he had the urge to put his hand to his face.

“It has like these cool lights on the roof,” Tom continued, “and a double outlet, and huge wheels. I’ll be driving one of these babies when I get older. What do you think?”

“I think you didn’t quite get the assignment,” Carl said. “We are supposed to make our own version of a bird.”

Tom scraped his chin. “Well, the lights resemble the eyes. Could be a flying bird car.”

Carl squinted his eyes. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care. I like it.” He continued working on his painting.

At 8.20 a.m. Carl looked up from his work. He stared at the door. Any moment now, Ron would stroll in. A minute went by and, as expected, the door opened and Ron walked in, heading straight for Mr. Harris’ desk.

Carl couldn’t hear what Ron and Mr. Harriss were saying, but he had witnessed their conversation often enough to know what was going on. It was like a scene from Groundhog Day: every time that Ron came in late, the exact same thing would happen. Mr. Harriss would point out the fact that Ron was late to class. Ron would then apologize and promise he will be on time next class. Mr. Harriss would stare at Ron for a moment with his beady little eyes from behind his silver glasses, before he nodded slightly, excusing Ron and returning to reading his papers.

The whole scene played itself as always and Carl quickly turned back to his work before Ron could find him staring.

“Morning,” Ron said, dropping his bag and taking the chair next to Carl.

“Oh,” Carl said like he hadn’t noticed Ron yet. “Hi, Ron.”

“What are you making?” Ron said.

“What do you think I’m making? I’m making a bird, obviously.”

“Looks more like bird shit,” Ron said, smiling.

Carl rolled his eyes. “Funny.” He couldn’t keep from smiling at Ron’s childish comment. It was something he loved about his friend. Ron could make him laugh about anything, really.

“Thanks,” Ron said. “And why is it purple?”

“Because it’s my favorite color.”

“A purple bird. Seems legit.”

“At least it somewhat resembles a bird, unlike your drawing,” Tom said. “What’s it supposed to be – a chicken?”

“Whatever,” Ron said.

Carl noticed the cold exchange between them. Ron and Tom had never gotten along. It didn’t help that Tom always stood up for Carl when Ron said something mean, even if it was an obvious joke. Ron would talk back to Tom, things would get heated, the teacher would have to get involved and in the end, they all had a sucky art class.

“How was your weekend?” Carl said.

Ron rolled his eyes at Carl’s obvious attempt to change the subject. “Enid kept bugging me. I can’t believe her. When will she get over the fact that I dumped her? She’s so pathetic.”

“You shouldn’t be so mean to her.”

“She deserves it,” Ron said. “You should be on my side, you know.”

Carl stuck out his tongue. When Ron gave him a cheeky wink back in return, he quickly looked away.

“You’re so silly, Carl,” Ron said, smiling. “But tell me about your weekend?”

“It was fine,” Carl said. “Spent most of my time gaming.”

“You’re such a geek.” Ron gave Carl a playful push.

“Shut up,” Carl said.

“Everything going all right here?” Mr. Harriss said.

Carl nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. Harriss.” Apparently, it was already time for Mr. Harriss’ daily round of walking by his students to pretend he was interested in what they were making.

“Carl is making bird shit,” Ron said.

“Ron,” Carl said, chuckling. He pushed Ron. “I am not making bird shit.”

“Yes, you are,” Ron said.

“Interesting,” Mr. Harriss said. A goofy smile was plastered on his face as he adjusted his glasses. “It seems like a rather creative piece of bird shit, then.”

Carl and Ron looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Mr. Harriss just kept smiling, his eyes showing the same serene gaze as always. He gave the boys a nod and started to talk to Tom, who began explaining his bird car concept.

“So are we going to study French tomorrow?” Ron said. “I have to pass the oral exam or else I’ll never pass. I can’t fail this year, Carl.”

“Yeah, sure,” Carl said. “We could go to the library after fifth hour.”

“Why don’t we go to your place?” Ron said. “I want to see where you live.”

Carl swallowed. “My place?” The last time he had someone over his house was in elementary school. And this wasn’t just someone that asked to go to his home, this was Ron, one of the coolest kids in his class. What if his sister or dad did something stupid? What if Ron didn’t like his room?

“Yeah?” Ron said. “Something wrong with that?”

“No!” Carl said a bit too enthusiastically. “I mean no, there’s nothing wrong with that. We can go to my place.”

Ron smiled. “You’re so weird.” He gave Carl a playful push, receiving one back in return. “Let’s get to next class.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Ron inhaled deeply as he entered Carl’s room. “So this is what you smell like?”

“What?” Carl said quickly, sniffing the room himself. It didn’t smell like anything to him. “I don’t smell anything?”

Ron smiled. He walked over to Carl’s bed, letting himself fall on it. “So this is where you sleep?”

“No, it’s purely there for decorative purposes. I sleep on the ground.” He laughed as Ron pushed him. “What? You shouldn’t ask such stupid things. Where else would I sleep?”

Ron laughed too. “Whatever. So want to play some games?”

“Ron, we’re here to study, remember?”

“We just got here. We can’t study right away. I need to get in the mood first.”

Carl shook his head but couldn’t contain another laugh. “In what mood?”

“The mood to study,” Ron said.

“You’re such a mess. Fine. Let’s play this game.” He turned on his game console and put in a game. “You know FIFA, right?”

“Cool,” Ron said, throwing one of the controllers to Carl. “I’ve played it before so maybe I’ll stand a chance.” He pressed play and waited for the loading screen. “On second thought, since you spend day and night playing games, I probably don’t stand a chance.”

Carl huffed. “You think I’m some kind of huge nerd or something?”

“Obviously.” Ron burst out laughing.

“Asshole,” Carl said, pushing Ron. “Come on, then. Show me what you got.”

“You’re going down,” Ron said.

After Ron lost the fourth game in a row, he threw down the controller. “Ah, not fair. You’ve played this a thousand times probably.”

“Yeah, well, you wanted to play, remember? Besides, I can’t help it that you’re bad.”

“What did you say?” He threw himself on Carl, pinning him on the bed.

Carl fought back half-heartedly, surrendering to Ron soon enough. “Okay, you got me. What now?”

“What did you say?”

Ron’s face was really close to Carl’s now.

“Uh, Ron?” Carl said, his voice a whisper. He could feel Ron’s breath on his face, effectively making his face feel like a volcano.

Ron just stared in Carl’s eyes – checking Carl’s face, looking for something. “One more time?”

“What?”

“Let’s play one more game?”

Carl shook his head. “Come on, Ron. We have to start studying. We both need to pass this exam.” He tried to push Ron off himself, feeling himself get hard.

“Fine,” Ron said in a drawled out way, releasing Carl. “If you insist.”

Carl chuckled. “I insist.” He got up from the bed, relieved that Ron let him go before he would embarrass himself. If only his dreams could be reality, then he wouldn’t have minded Ron pinning him down. Quite the opposite, he would want Ron to do all kind of crazy things to him.

He shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. This wasn’t the time for his fantasies with Ron. He got up from the bed and moved to his desk chair. “So let’s start with an easy one.”

“Okay,” Ron said.

“‘Qu’est-ce que vous faites?’ means ‘What is your profession’,” Carl said. “That’s one they will most likely ask you.”

Ron nodded, leaning back slightly on Carl’s bed.

“Okay,” Carl continued. “The next one is ‘Qu’est-ce que vous aimez faire pendant votre temps libre?’, which means ‘What do you do in your free time?’.” Carl looked over to find Ron staring at him. “Are you even listening?”

Ron responded by smiling.

“What?” Carl said, feeling blood flowing to his head and other parts at getting his friend’s full attention.

“Nothing,” Ron said. “You’re so good at it.”

“I’m okay,” Carl said.

“Thanks to you, I’m going to pass,” Ron said. “You know, Carl, you’re pretty amazing.”

Carl swallowed. The intense stare from Ron made him blush. He didn’t dare move when Ron came closer—close enough to feel the other’s breath on his face. And then sparks were shooting throughout his body. Ron’s lips, which were as soft and warm as he had imagined them, were touching his own.

A warm buzz claimed his body during the kiss and it left him breathless. He had to make an effort to open his eyes, which had closed instinctively. Ron was looking at him shyly. Gone was that confidence that had been radiating from Ron.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

Carl stared at Ron. This couldn’t be happening. This is what he was hoping for. This was the kind of stuff that only happened in his dreams. But this was real. He was here. Ron was here. He opened his mouth, ready to say he wanted it too, he wanted Ron to be his boyfriend, to be together forever—but he didn’t get the chance. A knock on the door made both of them shoot up from the bed.

The door was slowly opened, a smiling Rick walking through the door. “Hey, guys.” He looked from Carl to Ron, back to Carl. “What’s going on here?”

“What are you talking about?” Carl said.

“Both of you have those guilty looks on your faces.”

“Uh, no?” Carl asked, although it wasn’t meant as a question.

“Right,” Rick said, shaking his head. “So I figured you guys might want something to drink.”

Ron stood up quickly and gathered his bag. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He walked past Rick without looking back.

“Was it something I said?” Rick said as Ron left, his brow pulled up in a frown.

It took Carl a moment to respond, his brain still busy processing all the crazy stuff happening. He looked at his dad who had his brow pulled up in confusion. Carl started laughing. “It’s nothing, dad. Everything is just perfect.”

“Teenagers,” Rick mumbled, turning around and leaving.

The rest of the evening, all Carl could think about were those warm lips of Ron against his own, serving as his new bedtime fantasy. 


	3. Chapter 3

The day started with the best morning ever. After all, how can it not be the best morning ever after Ron fucking Anderson kissed him? It is the first time since forever that Carl actually wants to go to school. The reason is obvious: he gets to see Ron again, although he feels a bit nervous on the ride to school - he has not talked to Ron yet since last night.

French class first thing in the morning, not his favorite class, but whatever. Ron was in that class and Ron would probably already be there, since he had to start school earlier today as punishment because he missed another class last Monday.

As expected, Ron is already there when Carl walks in, but to his dismay, someone was already sitting next to Ron. Normally Carl would ask the person sitting in his spot to leave, but the person sitting next to Ron is Jody, one of his previous tormentors. Jody was a friend of Ron though and as soon as Carl became friends with Ron, the bullying stopped, but he wasn’t about to take any risks.

“Take a seat, Carl,” Mrs. Norbert says, the teacher for this class.

Carl nods absentmindedly, looking in Ron’s direction. His friend seems fully immersed in talking to Jody. He scratches his head and looks around and finds an empty seat, and of course, it has to be the one in the fucking front. He takes his seat and continues staring at Ron, but still no reaction from his friend. Carl thinks nothing further of it: he knows Jody and Ron are friends and that they haven’t hung out in a while – they’re probably just catching up.

The assignment for today’s class is to read some story in their textbook and answer some related questions. Since French was one of the things he was good at, he has an easy time reading through the text and can quickly begin answering the questions. He’s well on his way when someone throws a ball of paper at his head.

Carl picks it up from the ground and looks around – nobody seems to look back. He opens the paper and his heart starts beating faster when he reads it.

_You want to suck my dick after school?_

Holy fuck. He quickly puts it down. Surely this didn’t come from Ron? But if it did, then holy fucking hell, yes he wanted to. Maybe it was a bit quick, but hey, he wasn’t about the reject such an offer.

Soon someone starts to laugh though, and it becomes clear that the paper wasn’t from Ron. Carl looks back and sees it’s Sebastian waving at him, giving him a wink. Carl rolls his eyes. How original.

Carl turns his attention back to his assignments until another ball of paper hits his head. He doesn’t want to open it at first, expecting more of the same, but what if it really was a message from Ron this time? He can’t resist opening it.

_Faggot._

Carl tries to stay calm. He hears laughter behind him again. This time it was Mikey. He chooses to ignore them. If they want to be childish, fine, whatever. He wasn’t going to let them ruin this day. Ron would make the day amazing again.

Next up was Art class and again he is disappointed when he enters the room. Ron is sitting somewhere else than his usual spot and worry starts to fill his stomach –maybe Ron was ashamed of what happened yesterday?

Carl takes his usual spot and puts his bag down next to him. Thomas is already sitting across of him and gives him a quick wave. Carl gives him a weird look in exchange – he’s not used to this kind of behavior from Thomas. Usually Thomas is very energetic and can’t stop talking. Not that he minds – he prefers the silence.

They start working on their drawing and soon Thomas breaks the silence.

“Is it true?” Thomas asks.

“What?” Carl says while he continues to work on his drawing.  

“Did you make a move on Ron?”

“What?” Carl repeated, this time dropping his pencil. His heart suddenly starts to beat faster. Surely Thomas was joking.

“Rumor is going around that you tried to make a move on Ron.”

Carl just stared at Thomas, not knowing how to respond to this news.

“Yeah,” Thomas continued, “apparently you tried to do stuff.”

Carl looks away, tries to figure out what is going on, but he already knows. This rumor could only have come from one person, so he stands up and heads straight for his suspect.

Normally Carl was anxious when attention was drawn to him but he is moving on auto-pilot. At the moment, he couldn’t care less that Ron was surrounded by all the popular kids. “Ron.”

No reaction. Ron and the others continue chatting as if they hadn’t heard him.

“Ron!”

Ron looks up. “What?”

“I heard that rumor is going around that I tried to make a move on you. Any idea how that rumor got going?”

“It’s not,” Ron says calmly.

“It’s not what?”

“It’s not a rumor.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t act all innocent. You came on to me.”

Red-hot fury consumes his body. His insides are hot, like a volcano, but it’s not erupting just yet. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jody said. “We know you like dick. I always suspected it and it looks like I was right, so fuck off, faggot. We don’t want to get infected with your gayness.”

“You heard him,” Mikey said. “Fuck off.”

And all that heat is still there, but it won’t come out. It’s stuck in his body. Carl goes back to his seat – his head is bouncing and he can’t think.

 x

The rest of the day is memorable, but in a negative way. Never has Carl gotten so much notice at school. People are actually giving him attention and not just because he is Ron’s friend. But it is not the kind of attention he desires. Most of the kids are asking if what they have been hearing is true; others automatically assume it’s true and insult him. And then there are some who think it’s cute.

On a positive note, he got the chance to expand his slur vocabulary: arse bandit, anal astronaut, bumhole Engineer, sperm gurgler, turd burglar. Some of them would’ve been hilarious, weren’t it for the fact that the insults were aimed at him.

Throughout the day he tried to get a hold of the person who got him in to this mess, since unfortunately that person was also the only one that could get him out of it. But Ron had avoided him all day and was damned good at it. During classes would come in late so  he could carefully choose a spot away from Carl and when the bell rang, he got up quickly. During the break, his friends made sure Carl couldn’t reach him.

After their  last class ends, Ron flees out the classroom before Carl can catch up to him. This is his last chance today so Carl goes straight to Ron’s locker and when he arrives, Ron already has his coat on and heading outside, but he doesn’t have any choice but to follow, this is his last chance today to get a hold of Ron. So he  follows and it’s fucking cold outside.

No time to worry about his freezing hands though, since Ron is already fiddling with the lock on his bike.

Carl runs and before he knows it, he is standing right in front of Ron, breathing fast like an idiot.

“Wait a second,” Carl barely gets out of his mouth while Ron stares at him. A few seconds in and he can breathe normally again. “I know what you’re doing.”

Ron just raises his left eyebrow.

Carl takes a deep breath, ready to say what he had been wanting to say the entire day. “You’re trying to make me a scapegoat because you’re afraid people will find out about you.” Ron doesn’t respond immediately, so he continues. “I need you to stop it. I’m going to tell them everything what happened at my house if you don’t tell them that you’ve been lying about me.”

Ron looks perplexed at first, then starts to smile. “Really? That’s your plan? Nobody will believe you anyways.”

The fact that Ron is suddenly an asshole whereas he was perfect just yesterday (okay, he still is perfect, but on the outside) hurts, but Carl tries to not let it show. “Are you so sure? People know how much time we’ve been spending together.”

Ron ponders this, his pupils flicking left to right, looks up and grabs Carl by his shirt, pulling him close. “If you tell them I will make your life a living hell.”

Carl looks him in the eye. “You are my friend, Ron. Let’s stop this.”

Ron’s gaze lowers to his hand holding Carl’s shirt, then back  up meeting blue eyes. “We are not friends.” He releases his hold and starts to turn around.

“I liked it," Carl says.

“What?” Ron says.

“You kissing me yesterday."

Carl waits for Ron's answer but it never comes. He closes his eyes when Ron takes off on his bike. 


End file.
